


What We Did For...

by orphan_account



Category: Hollyoaks
Genre: M/M, McDean, part of the what if universe, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-17
Updated: 2011-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:13:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two wrongs don't make it right. Do they?  Can they?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What We Did For...

**  
WHAT IF SPIKE HADN'T MANAGED TO RETRIEVE JP'S LETTER TO FRANKIE?  
**

 

 

 

God he was so not looking forward to this.

 

The last few days had been horrible. If he were honest the whole holiday had been horrible, having to pretend to be having a good time for Sarah's sake, trying to convince himself he'd done the right thing, the _only_ thing possible in the circumstances. And it would have been fine; everything would have been plain sailing if John Paul hadn't run after the bloody taxi! The whole point had been to dip before he knew what was going on then come up with some excuse that he wouldn't be able to disprove – like he'd tried to find him, it had been a last minute thing, Sarah had been so upset. All that would have been achievable, he was confident he could have found a decent story to feed him. But he'd seen them; seen Craig see him and pretend he hadn't. John Paul knew Craig was running out on him and there was no way to spin that, not convincingly. Okay, he’d come round eventually – maybe - but Craig knew it was going to be touch and go, hence the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't lose him, he just couldn't. But why couldn't he understand, just try to understand just how hard this was for him? It wasn't that he didn't really love him, but it just wasn't enough. He honestly didn't think the love they had for each other would ever be enough to see them through the consequences of everyone finding out about them, and, unlike John Paul, who was so certain he was gay, he was damn certain he _wasn't_ gay. How was he expected to deal with that, deal with trying to be something he wasn't just to please John Paul? John Paul was so convinced that the things they did together – in bed – had to mean they were both gay, but Craig didn't want to do those things with anyone else, didn't look at other men differently, want to sleep with them now. He still fancied girls, still found himself taking a second look at a pretty face, a nice pair of legs. So he wasn't gay. Okay the sex with Sarah wasn't in the same league as sex with John Paul, but that didn't mean anything; all it meant was that...he didn't really know what it meant except he definitely wasn't gay.

“I could really do with a drink, Craig. I'm parched.” Sarah was looking tanned and fit – well fit. She'd been really wild the last week, either the sun or being away from home really getting her fired up. She'd never been quite that enthusiastic before, Craig having to ask her to go down on him on most occasions – previously. Zante seemed to bring out the fellatio loving slut in her and well, he wasn't exactly going to complain about that. Of course no matter how enthusiastic she got she couldn't even _begin_ to compete with John Paul but he'd trained himself not to think of him when he was with Sarah, not to compare, and for the most part was successful in keeping to that. The last week though John Paul had been on his mind more than ever. He'd missed him so fucking much! Why hadn't he realised just how much he'd miss him? He hadn't gone this long without seeing him since they'd got together and it was an ache, a constant bloody ache _not_ hearing his voice, _not_ seeing his face, _not_ touching him, _not_ kissing him...

“Craig are you listening?”

“What?”

“Can we get a drink before you walk me home?”

“Of course.” Sometimes he liked Sarah's assertiveness, sometimes it made him want to beat the shit out of her. The thing of it was though the fucking _guilt:_ the guilt made all his reactions to her come under scrutiny, constantly checking himself before he'd respond, accepting her bossiness as a sort of just desserts for the affair with John Paul. He couldn't pretend he was happy – he wasn't - and though he _was_ happy when he was with John Paul he didn't want to _be_ with him, not like that, not where everyone could see. No this was best. Sarah did sort of make him happy – not like life was a barrel of laughs anyway, especially when you were married – and you had certain responsibilities that you just had to face, live up to, not like you were expected to be happy all the fucking time. He and John Paul would always be mates – no reason why they couldn't still have fun when he could get away from Sarah. No, this was definitely the best way. He wasn't gay, would obviously be getting married at some point but he and John Paul were mates: they could still see each other, maybe do more than be _just_ friends. It wouldn't threaten his relationship with Sarah - or if not her then whoever he was with - and obviously he'd never leave his kids for John Paul, but they could still have fun. It was perfect really. John Paul must _surely_ see that.

“You're still in Zante aren't you?” Sarah was grinning at him, arm linked tight with his. She leaned in and kissed him. “I know. I wish I was back there too.”

You're not the only one. He was going to try to put this off – seeing John Paul – for as long as he possibly could. And he still hadn't got a story together. God he'd better get that sorted or he'd be treading water when the confrontation came. And John Paul could be well stroppy when he was ready to row. It scared him a little and turned him on a _lot_. They'd never had angry sex - yet. Now was probably as good a time as any-

“Hi Frankie. You'll never believe how wonderful it was. The hotel was so amazing. The food – well not sure Craig was too keen-”

“Just not the seafood - that was a bit dodgy, but everything else...” He wrapped both arms around Sarah's waist and kissed the side of her face, grinning at his mum.

“Hello Sarah, love. Do you think you could maybe give Craig and me and bit of time – there's something I need to discuss with him.” His mum was smiling one of those false tight smiles that presaged trouble. He doubted it was anything he'd done so maybe there was bad news family-wise. He let go of Sarah, shrugging at her puzzled enquiry.

“Leave the big suitcase. I'll drop it over later.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Go on.” He accepted her kiss, watched her out.

When he turned back to his mother he saw that all semblance of civility had vanished from her expression.

“Jack, love, mind the bar a minute will you. Craig and I are going upstairs to talk.”

“Okay, love, will do. Hello Craig.” Jack's face was a picture – trying to convey greeting, sympathy and sadness all at once. Craig stared at him

“Jack? What's going on?”

“On you go, son. Your mother's waiting on you.” He came closer. “I wouldn't keep her waiting, Craig.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Sorry, son. If you need a sympathetic ear...”

Thoroughly confused now he dragged Sarah's suitcase behind the bar an then his own. “Did I do something?”

“Son...” He broke off with a sigh. “Just go have that talk with your mother.”

Confusion was the main emotion he would have said he was feeling as he made his quiet way upstairs. She wasn't in the lounge and he doubted she'd be in her bedroom...

“In here, Craig.”

His room. Why was she in his room?

He stood at the door, watching her examine the posters on his wall. She never came in here – he did his own tidying, sorted his own dirty linen.

“Mum?”

“Sit down.” She indicated the bed, watching him as he came in, expression decidedly cool. She had something crumpled in her hand which she smoothed out now, handing it to him with a jerky motion like she was trying to control some uncontrollable impulse. He looked at her face then at the letter. It was crumpled but he recognised the writing straight off. His heart leapt, sank, raced. Had John Paul done something incredibly, incredibly, unforgivably - “What is it?” No way was he reading that, not if it was – but it couldn't be. They wouldn't have let him remain on holiday if anything had happened to John Paul...

“Read. It.” The words were bitten off like she could hardly stand to have them touch her tongue for even a second longer than necessary.

He looked at the paper in his hand, opened it out, started reading...

 

 

**

 

|He could hear music and laughter from inside so they were there, but no-one was opening the fucking door. He banged again, barely keeping control of the hot flame of anger inside him. It had been burning brighter and brighter ever since he'd read the opening lines of that letter. He'd hardly heard a word his mum had said, could hardly bring himself to care – had rushed out in the middle of her sentence.

Traitor! That was all he could think; the word that kept banging away at him. John Paul who was supposed to love him had destroyed him; deliberately destroyed him...

 

“Craig! What-?”

He pushed past her and rushed upstairs, throwing open John Paul's bedroom door. Empty. For a moment he stood there, so fired up for the coming confrontation that he hadn't even considered the possibility that it might not happen.

“Just who the hell do you think you are, barging in-”

“Where is he?”

“Under the bed, what do you think? Look just-”

He hurried downstairs making a bee-line for Myra. “Where's John Paul?”

“Well wouldn't you like to know?” She had a weird look on her face, somewhere between contempt and puzzlement, like she knew he'd been sleeping with John Paul, just couldn't quite reconcile it with what she saw in front of her. “He's not here, Craig. And the sooner you get that through your thick-”

“Makes me skin crawl to think of you and him doing it in our house-”

“Shut up you! Look Craig, I don't know exactly what's gone on between you and our John Paul. He was very tight-lipped about the actual doings-”

“Urgh, thank god!”

“But all I know is my boy was in bits because of something you did, enough to not want to see you again-”

He felt his heart stutter to a stop. “What?”

“It's what he said, didn't want to see you. If you came looking we were to tell you that...” Perhaps it was the maternal instinct that made his pain communicate itself so strongly to her, but he could sense the change in her as she examined his face. “Ah Craig, sit down, lad. Sit down before you fall down. Teen, get that kettle on.” She pushed him - gently - on to the sofa. “Carm, go help your sister. You too Miss Mouth - go on.” She waited until her daughters were in the kitchen area before turning to him. Her voice was low, serious. “I don't expect you to tell me what happened - he wouldn't and I know you won't - but he's in pieces and I need you to stay away from him, Craig. Please. I've never seen him like that before. He told me he was in love with you, that you didn't feel the same and I know there's more to it all than he's letting on but I'm going to respect his wishes and not tell you where he's gone.”

He stared at her simply because he was in shock and didn't seem able to get his brain to function properly; he had no idea what he was doing, no idea what he should be feeling. All he knew was that he was numb – all over numb.

“Craig.” She had her hand on his arm. “Craig, love. I'm sorry.”

“He can't. I- I love him.” He'd had no idea he was going to say that and he could see that his words had astonished her.

“Craig...” No she didn't know what to say. He'd no idea what John Paul had told her but it was clear he hadn't told her _that_.

“I did something really, really stupid and he did something pretty bad _because_ I hurt him. I- I'm angry with him, but I- I It's not something we can't get past. I thought, I thought I couldn't forgive him, but this – this is just too much. It doesn't need to come to this. I can't let it- Look I know I have no right to ask – he asked you not to tell me where he's gone and I respect that, but at least give me a contact number. We need to clear the air – not just for my sake, but for his too. We can't leave it like this – you have no idea how much of a mess it would be if we left it. Mrs. McQueen, please. I'm going to be dead straight with you. Me and John Paul are probably going to fight about this and we're going to get angry. We're going to row but it's something that we have to do – anything else just wouldn't get the air cleared and we need to do that. I know you want to protect him, prevent him getting hurt and believe me I understand that, I do, but we need to talk – he needs to talk to me. I need to explain myself and so does he.”

She was quiet for a long time, closely examining his face. He sat still under the scrutiny, knowing that she held his future in her hands, that without her on side his chances of getting anywhere near John Paul were virtually non-existent. “Okay, but don't expect anything. He was very upset.”

“How long's he been gone?”

“Few days. Heard from him yesterday.”

“And how is he?”

“Upset.”

He looked away. “Yeah.”

“Here.” She reached for a small red phone on the coffee table. “I'm giving you this - and he'll probably never speak to me again - but I think you're probably right – he does need to have it out with you.”

He took the number down, wondering where best to make the call...

“Use his room.” She must have read his mind or something.

They looked at each other: a moment of perfect understanding. “Thank you.”

“Just don't push him, okay? Let him have his space.”

“I will.”

John Paul's sisters were in the kitchen, watching him, a variety of expressions on their faces. Not one of them looked like they were in hurry to be his new best friend however. “I won't be a minute.”

John Paul's room seemed different without him in it – empty, lifeless.

The bed, even the bed felt different.

His hand was trembling as he keyed in the number. John Paul would recognise his number, of course, and probably wouldn't want to answer, very likely _wouldn't_ answer, but he had to try.

“Hello.” His voice sounded flat, semi-confrontational.

“John Paul.”

“Who did you bribe?”

“I asked your mum – she agreed that we needed to get the air cleared.”

“I don't think there's anything left to say is there, Craig? You dumped me – I took my revenge in a horrible, childish way. We hurt each other. Nothing more to say.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Are you serious? I was gutted, in bits, wanted to hurt you, tear you apart. If you want to know I still feel that way. Why wouldn't I? You treated me like a used kleenex – fucking me, fucking me over then running off with your first choice. I mean that's right isn't it – she's always going to be your first choice...”

“John Paul.”

“Yeah that's what I thought.”

“It's not as simple as that. Why do you always want to make it seem so fucking _simple_ when we both know-”

“It is that simple, Craig. You have two people who want you – you can only have one of them. Simple as that. I asked you to make a choice – you made it. I'd say running off with your girlfriend when you assured me that you'd broken up with her, that you'd chosen me – yeah I'd say that was making a choice.”

“John Paul.”

“Craig I have never, never in my entire fucking life felt so low. I wanted to die – I thought I was _going_ to it hurt so much. I didn't know what to do, what to think. I never thought you'd ever do that to me. All the lies you told, all the times you said you'd end it with her, told me you loved me best. Well that was hard to take, but in all that it never occurred to me that you'd destroy me and not think _anything_ of it.”

He didn't know what to say. He thought what John Paul had done was unforgivable but hearing John Paul's version of what _he'd_ done somehow put it just a little bit into perspective. “I panicked. When she finished with me...John Paul I've never had a girlfriend, not a proper one, not until Sarah. I don't think you have any idea what it's like to - Look I know this is probably all meaningless to you, but I'm trying to explain. You don't have any idea how all this feels for me – you know me, but you don't really understand the most important things about me, why I just can't come out, can't tell people about you. I'd only just started getting myself sorted when you said what you did. I'd only been going with Sarah for a few months. She was the first girl who seemed to be genuine – no sides, liked me for me. I'd never had that before. She was gorgeous - really fit, great personality - and she really liked me. I needed that, _need_ that, need to feel like I'm like everyone else. I've always been different, _never_ fit in, not really and I want to, I'm desperate to. It's like she was my way to – well to show that I'd finally got something right. And then you come along. John Paul, I don't know how to even begin to explain how hard this has been for me – wanting you, but not wanting to, afraid to, watching the feelings getting bigger and bigger and not being able to stop it happening. The more I was with you the harder it got to go back to Sarah – every time got just that little bit harder. I've been in turmoil. I didn't even know how to tell you what I was feeling – it was like everything was just getting away from me – falling deeper and deeper in love with you, but trying desperately to hold onto _me_. John Paul I feel like I've lost me, who I am. You've been pressuring me so much. I know you don't see that, that you think you've been really patient and you have, you really have. I see that, but-” He closed his eyes, hoping he would be able to get through this, make them both understand what was going on with him. He'd never put it all together like this before, never allowed the thoughts and feelings to coalesce into a coherent – semi- coherent – expression but talking about it meant feeling it and that was proving harder than he'd expected. He felt raw and vulnerable, opening himself up the way he'd never done before. He'd tried to once with Sarah after Hannah had outed them after the Dance Off but she hadn't really understood, hadn't even seemed to care all that much, but John Paul was listening, just allowing him to talk. “It's that being with you, John Paul is so – _feels_ so good that puts its own pressure on and then with you offering me everything I want but know I shouldn't have it's like I'm fighting myself – that's it: the fact that it's me I'm fighting just makes it all so impossible because a part of me wants it _so_ much, so so much and the other part - the sensible part - tells me that I'm self-destructing, that being with you, not giving you up is destroying me. And I don't know what to do, John Paul. What do I do?”

“Craig...”

“I know I hurt you and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, but I was in a blind panic, I thought it was all about to come tumbling down on top of me and I wasn't ready, just wasn't ready for that.”

“I know, I know. We should have talked. I didn't know how you were feeling. Sorry I pushed you.”

“John Paul, no, it wasn't your fault. I needed to be with you, still need to be with you. I just have to find a way to be brave enough to let it happen. I-I- I'm just not there yet.”

“I know.”

“Don't hate me. Please.”

“Craig I don't hate you, but you can't use me like you've been doing. You knew you were never going to be with me yet you slept with me, led me on...”

God he really though that? “John Paul I didn't- Okay I know that it must seem that way to you, but- Look I admit that yeah I hadn't really made that commitment to you. In my heart I had, but my head, no, okay, I couldn't.”

“So we can't be together until you do.”

His tone was matter-of-fact, reasonable – a knife in Craig's belly. “I can't be without you.”

“You managed a whole fucking week without me, Craig. Remember?”

“That was-”

“Do not fucking start! I don't want to hear it.”

“John Paul-”

“No, Craig. I am sick of it, sick of being second best. Until you can commit to me – just to me – fully: body mind and soul then no, I'm not interested. You might as well be with her.”

“John Paul I don't want her.”

“No? Then how come you didn't finish with her? How come her finishing with you made you so upset that you fucking destroyed me to be with her?”

“John Paul, please-”

“Tell me, Craig. Tell me why I should put myself in that place, back in that place where I bare my chest and invite you to insert the knife wherever takes your fancy – on an almost daily basis? Seeing you with her, seeing you blank me, pretend there's nothing between us. How the fuck do you think that made me feel? And then to get the ultimate kick in the teeth and even now, even now you have no fucking idea!”

“I do. I promise I do, but isn't it time we started being honest with each other? I'm trying to be honest with you. I'm hoping that if we're honest we can actually get somewhere. Look, John Paul I'll admit I _haven't_ been honest with you. I always told you that I loved Sarah, but I don't, not that way. I wanted to be with her because she _is_ my girlfriend and that was important to me. You always put me first and I never did the same for you and I'm sorry. I was afraid of losing myself if I didn't keep hold of her. If I let myself I knew I'd fall so completely that I'd no longer be me, the me I always thought I was so I had to keep part of myself back. She was my way of doing that. And I didn't _want_ to think of what that did to you. I couldn't live with myself if I let myself admit that I was hurting you, so I didn't let myself.”

“God, Craig.”

“You don't have to tell me. I'm a bastard, I know that and it must seem like I don't care, that I'll hurt you and not think anything of it, that it doesn't affect me, but it does. I just know that at this point there's nothing I can say that'll make any odds. I can' ask you to give me another chance – I don't think I've earned that right.”

“You can ask.”

“But you're not prepared to are you?”

“Craig we nearly destroyed each other. I regretted what I did the minute I did it and I did try to get the letter back but I couldn't.” He was silent for a second. “Did Frankie-?”

“I didn't wait to hear what mum had to say. John Paul I was so angry with you I came straight over to yours. I'm in your bedroom now – your mum said I could call you from here.”

“Yeah?” He sounded surprised.

“Yeah. Why, did you expect them to rip me to pieces or something?”

“Well Mercy just for the sheer hell of it yeah.”

“They know about us?”

“Your mum.”

“Oh god.”

“Came round, shouting her mouth off. Mum wasn't there so she doesn't know the full gory details. Teen, Carm and Mercy were there – they pretty much know it all. Well that we were sleeping together and that I sent her that letter. I didn't tell anyone why – not Frankie, not my family. I felt too ashamed by then. Look Craig, I'm really sorry. I had no right to do that. Yeah I was devastated, thought you'd ended it in the worst way possible and wanted to do the only thing I could think of that I felt would hurt you as much. But I was wrong – I shouldn't have done it. When I saw Frankie's reaction I knew I'd messed up.”

He felt himself go cold. “Was it really bad?”

“Really bad. Craig she was so upset. I shouldn't have told her at all let alone like that – in a letter. I'm so sorry.”

Well too late for regrets now. And it was still a mess. He didn't really feel that they'd got anything sorted. He still had his mum to deal with, still couldn't be sure what was going on with him and John Paul; Sarah, what was he going to do about Sarah? He sighed, lay back on the bed. The pillow smelled like John Paul and he closed his eyes, trying not to give in to a wave of longing so strong it threatened to drown him. “Your pillow smells like you.”

“Craig, don't.”

“I can't lose you. It would kill me.”

“You're being so unfair. You always do this. Nothing ever changes with you.”

“What do you want – a commitment? Okay you've got it.”

“No, it's not what I want.”

“You think I don't fucking mean it? Look John Paul, I can't lose you and it's not like it was with Sarah when it was fear, fear of being rejected, of not being good enough or that everyone would see me and see a gay man. It's about the rest of my life. How can I be without you? How can I be with her and not be with you? That's the lie – pretending to be happy with her when it's you I want. And mum knows now – you forced my hand, John Paul, don't you see that? Isn't that what you wanted? Out me so I'd no longer have an excuse?”

“I just wanted you to be honest. I was sick of you denying what you were.”

“And what am I, John Paul? Can you tell me because I don't think I have a definition.”

“Why can't you just accept that you're not straight? How can you keep saying you're straight when you do the things you do and love doing them and having them done – by me – a bloke?”

“But I'm not gay!”

“Says who?”

“Me, for one.”

“But Craig, how do you know you're not? What's your definition of someone who's gay?”

“What? Well someone who sleeps with other blokes and doesn't fancy women.”

“And because you still fancy Sarah you think that makes you straight? What about the sleeping with other blokes part?”

“It's not other blokes – it's just you.”

John Paul sighed. “There are plenty of heterosexual – even homosexual - people who have only ever slept with the one person.”

“But that doesn't mean that they're not het – just because there's only ever been the one person.”

“No, what it means is that they don't fucking know since it has only ever been the one person and Craig, look I'm not trying to get you to say you don't like girls. It's not that – it's the way you won't accept the other bit-”

“But it's because I love you.” He could tell by the quality of the silence that this had been the wrong thing to say. “I mean-”

“So are you saying that you're only sleeping with me because you're trying to please me? That I forced you into it?”

“No of course not, but-”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Craig. Is that what this has been?” He sounded like he'd been kicked in the stomach.

Craig felt the panic take hold of him. “John Paul, please, no it wasn't. I didn't mean it to come out that way-”

“I thought- I thought you enjoyed it, wanted it as much as I-”

“I did, I do. God John Paul, just stop. Please. I honestly didn't mean it that way. I just meant that loving you so much I did something that I never thought I'd do, that I'd never even _thought_ about and it was because I loved you that I did it. But it was good. I love what we do-” He trailed off knowing that John Paul didn't believe him. Oh god how had he messed this up so badly? “I love you, John Paul and I love making love with you. It's fantastic, better than anything I've ever had with anyone else.”

“So they're two separate things then – love and sex. You love me so you allow me to have sex with you, but it's not something you really want, not something you'd do if you didn't love me.” He hesitated, thinking it through, but that, of course, was a mistake. “I honestly didn't think this could get any worse. This has all been a lie then, hasn't it? I thought we felt the same, but I was wrong. My god!”

This was spinning completely out of control. His life was about to come crashing down around him. “No you weren't wrong.” He was trying his best to keep the panic from his voice, trying to stop himself dropping the phone but his hand was shaking so much he could hardly keep it still. “I do feel the same. I love you, I love making love to you. John Paul you know that's true. You can't lie about something like that – you can't fake a hard on and you've never had to give me a hand _ever_ to get me there. I've never not felt in the mood with you, you know that. The sex has always been bloody fantastic. Okay the fact that I'm crazy about you helps but that's not the only reason. Look I know I come across like a moron – talking about being confused and doing things I'd never thought about but look, John Paul, the one thing I'm not confused about is the way I feel about you. How I feel about you is different from the way I feel about Sarah. It's like- like the way I feel about you is the way I'm supposed to feel about her – like it's all backwards or something. I- I slept with you because I had to do something with the feelings I had – it was the only way I knew how to express them. And it was so bloody good – couldn't believe how good it was. I knew I was in trouble because I couldn't stop – couldn't stop the feelings, couldn't stop the wanting. And they're _not_ separate. Look John Paul I know the thing with Sarah- I know it's done your head in and I'm sorry for that. I thought I could keep you uninvolved because it is separate from you – but I see that for you it isn't, course it isn't, couldn't be. But the truth is it's about me – my relationship with Sarah – not about you, not in the way you might think. Look, the only things that are separate in all this is me and you and me and Sarah. The two things are like two halves of me that are fighting to take control – my heart – you – and my head – Sarah. I can't separate them – _couldn't_ separate them. If I went with you, chose you, then I'd be saying I was gay, that I was that way, and would lose all chances to ever be normal again. But, John Paul, I can't be without you. When I was with her- Do you know that it was the first time we'd been apart since we got together?”

“Craig, yeah, yeah I do.”

“I know – stupid question. But I missed you so much. Being with her all the time with no escape, no you, I knew, I really knew it wasn't ever going to work – just me and her. If I don't have you too I can't be with her.”

“And if you don't have her to fall back on you can't be with me.”

“But it wasn't the same. No, listen. It wasn't about you not being _enough_ like it is with her. In a way the problem is that you _are_ enough, more than enough. It scares me to death that I want you so much that every time I'm with you a little more of me gets chipped away, makes me just that more inclined to say sod it, sod it all and choose you over my good sense, my sense of self-preservation. It's like every time I leave you a part of me resolves to try harder with Sarah, make myself love her more so that I won't be so stuck on you. But every time I get closer and closer to moving to the next level with her my heart just won't let me. My head says do it, but my heart says no, tells me that if I keep doing this I'll lose you.”

“Yeah.”

“Have I?”

“Look Craig, I do understand what you're saying, I see now how hard all this must have been, but I have a sense of self-preservation too and it tells me that I can't take any more. If I have to lose you to her-”

“Haven't you been listening to me? God John Paul , have I been wasting my fucking breath here?”

“What? All I've heard are excuses, reasons why you can't commit. How does any of that help _me_?”

“I was just trying to be upfront with you, explain to you what's going on with me-”

“And I appreciate it, but at the end of the day what's changed? You're not gay; your sense of self-preservation won't let you commit to me; you don't love Sarah as much as me but you need to stick with her because I'll turn you into a dirty little queer otherwise.”

“John Paul...”

“No, sorry, that's how it is as far as I can see.”

“What will it take to make you see how I feel?”

“Finish with her, commit to me by telling your family about us, come for tea at my place – as my boyfriend.”

“Well that rolled off your tongue, didn't it? Been practising that one?”

“Craig, I've been wanting that ever since I fell in love with you and realised that you had feelings for me too-”

“Is it so hard to admit that I love you and that you know I do? Does it make it easier for you to get on your high horse if you can downplay my feelings?” He knew he sounded bitter, but John Paul was being a prick and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise.

John Paul sighed. “Yeah okay, you got me. Yeah I do wonder sometimes how you can love me so much and not want to be with me so yeah I do make it easier to get by 'downplaying' your feelings. Since we're being totally honest.”

“Do I make you happy?”

“Like I'm walking on a cloud – a _carpet_ made of fluffy, snow white clouds.”

He'd known it, but hearing it, hearing it said with neither hesitation nor qualification... “I feel the same.”

“Then show me, Craig, bloody _show_ me.”

“Okay. Come home.”

“Are we still being honest?”

“Yeah.” He wasn't going to like this, he knew he wasn't going to like this.

“I want to fuck you.”

Oh. “Well, yeah.”

“I mean sort of right this minute.”

“Well I'm all for that John Paul, but-”

“Tired of talking.”

“Me too, but-”

“I'm staying at my nanna's – in Manchester. How soon can you get here?”

“Give me time to pack.”

“She's hardly ever here.”

“Great, so I can walk around in me skivvies without giving her heart failure then.”

“You don't know my nanna. Think a combo of my mum, Mercy and Michaela x 10.”

“Seriously?”

“Worse.”

He laughed. “Will I be safe?”

“No, but you will be from her. I'll keep you hidden away.”

“John Paul...”

“Fuck first, talk later. I owe you a really hard fuck.”

“You do.”

“I'm going to make sure you never fucking want to leave.”

“John-”

“Here's the address...”

 

 

**

Four pairs of eyes were trained on him as he came down the stairs. He wondered if they could detect his semi-hard cock or tell that John Paul had been talking really, really, really dirty to him. “Well er...had a word with John Paul.” Mercy rolled her eyes, but the others wore polite, listening expressions. “We're still talking, but he says he wants me to come see him in Manchester. I'm on my way there now. He told me not to tell you because you'd make a fuss but I'm tired of secrets so I'm telling you. I'm going there to be with him. We're in a relationship and I'm sorry I stopped him from telling you all before now – that was down to me. I'm not going to pretend that it has been or will be plain sailing but I love him and I'm willing to try to make this work. If all works out and our exams go okay I'm asking him to go to Dublin with me.” He waited, his polite 'I'm sorry, but that's up to me and John Paul' speech on the tip of his tongue, but no-one said boo. “Okay. So I'll be off then.” He opened the door...

“Craig, wait!”

Yep, here it came. He readied himself. Myra came rushing up, a large Sainsbury's bag in her hand. She handed it to him. “Me mam's a terrible cook. Just some things here we made for him. Nowt special just some of his favourite nibbles. And I got some clean undies here for him too. I know he'll probably-”

“Mum!”

“Yeah, well, anyway tell him I'll be expecting a phone call later tonight.” Her expression made him feel very, very sorry for John Paul. He resolved to be nowhere when that call was made.

“Yes, Mrs McQueen.”

“Don't be silly, call me Myra but Craig, I'll want a word with both of you when you come back. Just the three of us, nice heart to heart over a cup of tea. But here, I don't pull me punches – any of me kids will tell you that - and there's something neither of you are telling me and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Look I'm not going to pretend I approve – you were two-timing your girlfriend to be with him – and that's not the way we do things in this family.” He pretended not to see the look that passed between Mercedes and Tina.

“No, Mrs. McQueen.”

“But I'm passing no judgements until I get to talk to both of you. Here, take that.” She nodded to the bag “And give him our love.”

“Urgh don't encourage him, mam.”

“I will. Thank you. Bye Mrs. McQueen.” He looked up at the others. “Bye.”

 

Outside he opened the bag and saw container after container of god knows what but it all smelled really, really good. Another bag did indeed contain a selection of underwear. God he was going to rib him so _hard_ over this.

So he was still with John Paul, had just fucking outed himself and committed to him so well...he was with John Paul then. He was scared to death - he wasn't going to pretend - but the thought of that hard fuck John Paul had promised him went some way to making things seem just a _touch_ better.

But before that he'd need to have that 'talk' with his mum.

He very much doubted she'd be waving him off to Manchester with a packed lunch and a change of underwear, but there was no help for it. It was a confrontation that had to happen and at least he was sure in his own mind what he was doing now, where he wanted to be.

Oh god, Sarah. He'd have to finish with her before going off to get fucked by John Paul – only right and proper that he do that first.

That was going to be a whole barrelful of laughs wasn't it?

John Paul would need to fuck him into the middle of next week to make the day he was having (about to have) bear any semblance to _okay_...

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write a little more in this one - and I did. It's just that I lost a significant amount of work as a result of a hard drive crash a few years back and I guess that was one of the casualties...#
> 
> Oh, and in common with all the What if fic this does necessitate a fairly good knowledge of the canon.


End file.
